


Sentimental You and Faithful Me

by EclipseOfTime



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseOfTime/pseuds/EclipseOfTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally born from a prompt on the Dragon Age Kink Meme. Sebastian Vael, out of desperation seeks the help of Hawke to avenge his family and gain his rightful throne. The only problem is, Sebastian never expects to fall in love with him. A man and a mage both, Hawke is everything he shouldn't want, but Sebastian cannot help but be attracted to his nobility and bravery. But not all stories have happy endings, even those concerning love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be my friend (and breathe me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as stated in the description this is based off of a kink meme prompt which I started to fill quite some time ago. I didn't want to upload it to anything other than the kink meme until I knew for sure the direction I would take this story in and that I would definitely have the time and drive to work on it (at least in the short term with a few more chapters). It will not run as a day-by-day account of Hawke and Sebastian's interactions. Some chapters will focus on one moment, as this first one does, others will touch on multiple instances and have no real main interaction that they are centered around like this. Also, this is not beta-read so any faults in grammar, spelling, or general lack of writing skill are mine. Story title taken from "The Ladder" by Andrew Belle. Chapter title taken from "Breathe Me" by Sia. If anyone wants to see the initial kink meme prompt it's here http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/10749.html?thread=41948413#t41948413

The darkness in the Chantry served Sebastian well as he huddled himself near the front doors. He avoided his usual spot upon the pulpit, wishing to be as far away from Grand Cleric Elthina and the golden visage of Andraste that stood, always strong and proud at the end of the Chantry hall.

Usually, by now, he would be reciting his morning prayers, but all the hymns and verses he had found solace in rang hollow in his head. He had been faithful in his service, his _duty_ , to the Maker. Forsaken any rights as a noble, any chance of the life he might have had in Starkhaven before and strived to repent for his follies, yet He had abandoned Sebastian without a family and Starkhaven without a King.

“Your family can rest now. Their killers are gone.” A gruff voice, deliciously rough in its foreign lilt broke through his reverie. Cobalt eyes met brown and Sebastian furrowed his brow slightly in curiosity at the man standing before him.

A messy arrangement of ebony hair sat atop the man’s head, with a gruff yet groomed beard that suited his voice rather well, Sebastian could not help but note. Wisps fell in front of those eyes that looked so warm and full of understanding that Sebastian could not help the hitch in his breathe. Even Elthina – the woman who had raised him in his new life, a woman who had taught him patience and virtue and conviction as if she were a replacement for the parents that had cast him from Starkhaven - when faced with the news of his family’s slaughter could muster no more than a soft, pitying look before offering a stern reminder that ‘the Maker has a plan for all of us’.

All the elegant words that had been ingrained in him since birth failed him as he sputtered out a reply. “Excuse me, who are-?” He paused for a moment, his eyes widening in realisation. “My post to the Chanters’ Board? Did her Grace let that stay?” Chancing a glance up at the pulpit, he saw Elthina’s eyes fixed upon him and the stranger. Strangers, he realised as he looked back. A Rivaini woman with long legs and a cutting smile that made a flush come to his cheeks as she raked her eyes up and down him, and two elves, one male, one female, both covered in strange markings though he could find no similarities in the designs. Guilt panged in the pit of his stomach and it must have shown for the man in front of him furrowed his brow in concern. “I thought for sure no one even read...” He muttered in an attempt to stop the man from staring at him so, well, _intensely._ It was making him even more uncomfortable than the suggestive twinkle in the Rivaini’s eyes. “But you say you’ve killed them?”

A soft smile graced the handsome (handsome? Why in Thedas had that entered his mind?) man’s face as he gave a small nod in confirmation. Sebastian cleared his throat and adopted the proud stance he had worn so easily when he had still been a Prince and fixed the other man with a firm, appraising gaze while his companions milled around the entrance of the Chantry (the male elf propping himself against the opposite wall and staring resolutely at the floor while the other elf chatted animatedly with the dark-skinned human woman). “You have my eternal gratitude, Serah! It is comforting to think my parents might now rest easily in their graves.” It was only half a lie. To know that justice had been served was a comfort – perhaps the Maker had not forsaken him and instead sent this man as divine punishment for the mercenary scum that had murdered every man, woman and child that shared his blood. However, it still was not _right_. Not what he wanted. It did not bring any of them back, nor allow him to make amends after cutting them out of his life for so long – bitter at first for their willingness to give him away, the unwanted, unneeded third child, and then distracted from his loathing by his newfound devotion to the Maker and His teachings.

“I... I hope their deaths bring you peace.” The man seemed much smaller in that moment, a dark, sorrowful look crossing his face that caused an ache to echo in Sebastian’s heart.

He extended a gloved hand to the man in front of him, forcing a smile onto his features. It was odd, how he wanted to reach out to comfort this man - for what, he could not be sure – while grieving himself for something he could not discern had been his to lose. Truly, the only person in his family he had been close to was his grandfather, his brothers nurturing the necessary rivalries required of royalty and his parents having never wanted more than ‘the heir and the spare’. Starkhaven, too, had never been entitled to him, unless under the most grievous of circumstances. “Thank you. More than I can say. I truly did not expect anyone but me to take up this cause.”

The stranger glanced down at Sebastian’s hand briefly before returning his gaze to eye-level, his line-of-sight flicking searchingly over Sebastian’s features in a way that made him feel both vulnerable and yet excited. It felt as if he wanted to lay himself bare before this dark looking man with such a benevolent light in his eye and let him see all that he was and had been. The whoremongerer; the disgrace to the Vael family name; the fallen Prince and now a Brother who had discarded his vows. The way he looked at Sebastian made him feel as though he would see all of this and never judge him for it.

Warm and gentle, a hand slipped into his own and he could not help the smile that came to his lips, bemused and wondering as he shook it how a grip could be so firm yet so gentle at the same time. His fingertips explored the skin beneath them for the briefest of moments. Calloused palms caused wonderful friction against the small scars that criss-crossed his fingers from years of stringing a bow, but all too soon the hand was gone and a flush creeped up Sebastian’s tanned cheeks as he realised the rather strange path down which his thoughts had wandered.

He dropped his hand as if burned and began to fumble with his belt, attempting to release the purse of coin that was tied at his side. “Consider this an advance.” He said, trying to regain his composure as he held it out towards the man in front of him. “When I have secured my lands again, you will be paid royally.”

A soft chuckle escaped the tall figure before him and once again he felt the man’s hand clasp around his own, pushing the coin back until it rested lightly against his armoured chest. “I have no need for money. Not for this.” Sebastian could not help the way his mouth formed a small, questioning ‘o’ shape as he heard a whine of protest from the Rivaini woman who seemed to return her attention to the conversation as soon as payment had been brought up. Kind eyes simply stared back at him, a soft smile curving his lips as he released Sebastian from his gentle hold and turned away, his fellows forming around him as if waiting to follow his lead.

“Wait!” He held out a hand in protest at their retreating backs, the stranger gracing him with a look over his shoulder and an eyebrow raised in question. “Your name?” He muttered, clearing his throat before delivering the question again, trying to sound more authoritative and less like a desperate fool. “I would know your name, serah. If you will not accept pay then I... I would pray for your good fortune.”

Another chuckle escaped the man though Sebastian could see something in his eyes that was not quite amusement. “Hawke. Though I doubt the Maker would listen for me.” He nodded his head once more in farewell before pushing open the door, his companions following him outside.

“Hawke.” He repeated to himself, testing the way his tongue formed it. It was sharp, yet noble. A fitting name, the Prince decided, and turned from the doors to go to his quarters and gather the petition for aid he intended to present to the Viscount. _A name to be remembered,_ he thought, and without knowing why a small smile graced his lips. For the rest of that day that name and the man it belonged to refused to leave his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've said I have the basic outline of the way this story will run and end but if you happen to have a little scene you'd like to see (a certain mission? Interaction of Hawke or Sebastian with another character?) let me know. Also Anders hasn't made an appearance yet and Fenris/Isabela/Merrill's appearances were cameos at best but they will play larger roles in coming chapters, along with maybe some other characters (I do so wish to add Varric but I worry about getting his characterisation right).


	2. Sparks will fly as grace collides (with the dark inside of us)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get in more interesting things in this chapter such as Sebastian's second mission but, well, I got carried away. Isabela is sort of fun to mess around with. Chapter title taken from "Healing Begins" by Tenth Avenue North.

It was a year later before Hawke and Sebastian happened to cross paths again. It would be a lie to say that it happened by accident and the Prince did not intend for it. Rather, he sought Hawke out, asked anyone who would listen to know the whereabouts of the man who had been so valiant as to come to Sebastian’s aid, in hopes that he might do so again. He looked first in Lowtown, bow on his back and arrows sharpened, just in case. He had been to the slums of Kirkwall before and returned unscathed, but it had always been with the sun at its apex and another sworn to the Chantry at his side.

He caught the sight of a sign swaying in the light breeze, light piercing into the night despite the grubbiness of the windows. A crude, macabre statue strung up on a noose hung above the door, the sign swinging lazily beneath declaring the bar to be, aptly named, ‘The Hanged Man’. Not exactly a place Sebastian would have liked to enter, under any circumstances, but he pushed the door open none the less. His mind refused to let go of this man – had refused for months on end – and, he was forced to admit, his own pride and selfishness urged him to seek Hawke. There were few that would do such kindness without expecting a reward – The Viscount himself refused to back Sebastian’s claim for his throne without proof of a definite profit – and Sebastian thought it would be a rare person indeed who would do so twice. Yet, there had been something in Hawke’s eyes – those warm, kind eyes – and the small, earnest smile he had worn that convinced the Prince that Hawke was one such rare man.

The interior was not quite what he expected. Crowded, of course, but without the din and ruckus he prepared himself for. Before the Chantry he had frequented places much worse than this often, sternly vowed to never enter such a place again, but he was desperate and Hawke... Hawke was worth the risk of such temptations.

The barkeep stood half-heartedly wiping out the inside of a tankard as Sebastian approached. He drew a few stares, an odd sight to behold in his immaculate armour pristine and reflecting the dim light of the flickering lanterns of the establishment, and the barkeep himself took on the facial expression of a gaping goldfish at the sight of the Prince before him. “M’lord.” He muttered, dumbfounded, clumsily dropping the tankard in his hand in a rush to scrounge up gold from a man who actually looked able to pay it. “What can I get for you – that is, what is it I may do for you?”

Sebastian could not help but smile ruefully at the man’s hopeful tone and his attempt at propriety, shaking his head. “Only information, I’m afraid.” The barman’s face soured at that, but Sebastian proceeded despite it. “I’m looking for someone. A tall man, fair of skin and black of hair. Last I met him, he went by the name of Hawke.”

As soon as the name left his mouth, he saw recognition alight in the barkeep’s eyes, then fear as he glanced just over Sebastian’s shoulder. Sebastian followed his line of sight to the table that he had just passed, unsure of what it was he had been expecting, but certainly, it had not been a dwarf glaring at Sebastian as if he might force him to drop dead with a stare. “Hawke? Why? What do you want with him?” The dwarf grumbled, like a faithful guard dog raised on its haunches ready to strike.

A high-pitched laugh sounded from the same table and both Sebastian and the dwarf turned to look at the cause of the disturbance. Honey eyes glittered with amusement and dark lips pulled up into a smirk as the woman next to the dwarf eyed the Prince up and down. “Don’t mind him Varric, Hawke’s safe from him.” She winked, causing heat to flush to Sebastian’s cheeks as she rose, hips swinging seductively seemingly with no effort. “Though, considering who this handsome fellow is, and considering what a sucker our boy Hawke is for a pretty face, I can’t say it won’t lead to danger.” She placed a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, a gesture far too familiar for his comfort. Not to mention her words embarrassed him beyond belief with their suggestive purr.

It took him but a moment to place her, and he blushed all the more for not recognising her sooner. “You were one of his companions then. Apologies, I-I didn’t recognise you at first.” The Rivaini only chuckled in response to his stumbling apology, dipping in to kiss his burning cheek.

“Don’t mind it, sweet.” She pulled back with a Cheshire grin stretching her cheeks, taking as much pleasure out of Sebastian’s discomfort as she could, he was sure. The dwarf – Varric, it seemed – still looked between the two of them questioningly, though the distrust seemed to have dissipated, replaced by mere curiosity.

Sebastian cleared his throat, edging away from the Rivaini and turning his full attention to Varric. “I am Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven. The reason I am trying to find your friend is... well... I need his help. He aided me once before and I... I am in the uncomfortable position of having to request it again, but I could not think of where else to turn.” He looked imploringly at Varric and the woman, the former stone-faced and the latter standing with a sculpted eyebrow raised in bewildered amusement.

Until the dwarf burst out laughing.

Sebastian stood aghast for a few minutes, feeling all the while foolish for attempting to appeal to the better nature of a dwarf – with more hair on his chest than Sebastian wagered he had ever seen on any other dwarf’s chin – and a woman who had the look of a mercenary or pirate or other vagabond about her. At last, Varric seemed to catch himself and shook his head, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “No need to be so formal, Choir Boy,” Sebastian could not help but bristle at the strange nickname, but held his tongue, “I know who you are now.” He shared a knowing look with his companion before turning back to Sebastian. “Isabela, here, can take you to Hawke in the morning.”

Isabela let out a protesting yelp and seemed about to provide some excuse before Varric quickly shushed her with a look that Sebastian could not understand. “Stay here, if you like.” The dwarf offered, clearly amused by the discomfort Sebastian displayed at the offer.

“That’s alright. I can simply come back tomorrow.” He replied, a giddy, churning sensation rising in his stomach. It was a small matter – at least he hoped – that he needed to deal with but Hawke would greatly improve the chances of his success in the endeavour. That and a small part of him could not help but feel excitement at the thought of seeing the man again, to know what had happened to his, well, saviour in the past year. “Thank you. I won’t forget your kindness.” He muttered, though his sentiment rang true and he bowed his head to both of them before heading out of the tavern.

* * *

 

In the early morning sun, The Hanged Man did not look all that better than it did at night. If anything, the light only served to make it more of an eyesore. Still, it could have been the most daunting, darkest, demon-infested lands of The Fade and Sebastian would have entered. For his family, his home, he had to see this through.

He found Isabela lounging against the counter. As soon as she spotted him she stretched, languid as a cat, and picked up two daggers resting in front of her. “Off we go then.” She muttered, grudgingly.

“Not a morning person, I see.” Sebastian smiled warmly, attempting to ease some of his own anxiety as they headed out of the tavern and onto the streets of Lowtown together.

“Not after a night like I had, no. When you pound a few shots, and a sailor or two, it tends to leave you a little worn.” His cheeks instantly went aflame at her comment, drawing a laugh from the woman next to him. “Don’t act so innocent. You may be Andraste’s boyfriend or... whatever it is you swear to when the Chantry straps a chastity belt on you and makes you recite their bollocks but I’ve been to near enough every port in the world. Starkhaven being one of them. I’ve heard the tales of your appetites, enough to match mine and then some.”

He turned away, shame causing him to be unable to look her in the eye. “I changed. Became better.” He took in a deep breath, steeled himself as he rose his head to look once more ahead, chin held high and proud. “I know you won’t understand it, but it wasn’t the life for me. It was... wasteful. I have purpose now.” He muttered, hand resting upon the buckle of Andraste worn about his waist. “Though I’ll admit, I did think it was all ‘bollocks’ to begin with.” He chuckled, catching from the corner of his eye that Isabela attempted to return the smile, though it fell flat.

“Purpose, eh? No wonder Hawke couldn’t resist you.” She shook her head and they continued on, Sebastian frowning as he mulled over what she meant.

* * *

 

They reached Hightown - Sebastian had definitely not expected to see the man decked out in tattered, patchwork armoured robes to dwell among nobility, but didn’t bother to bring it up despite his curiosity – and after a short walk through the market Isabela turned sharply and without warning simply pushed her way through a door. Sebastian stood awkwardly at the threshold, watching the Rivaini swagger down the entry-way to the mansion. She stopped, looking over her shoulder, surprise on her face when she realised the Prince wasn’t at her side. “What are you doing?”

“I haven’t been invited in. It’s only proper.” He scowled slightly. He didn’t know how familiar Isabela was with Hawke but even then it did not fit with the manners he was raised with to just barge into someone’s home.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Hawke won’t mind, rather the opposite, I think. He needs a distraction.” Her voice tailed off on the last statement, some unknown sorrow clouding her eyes for just a moment before she shook her head and smirked once more. “Never mind, just get in here and leave the stick up your arse at the door.”

With a soft huff of indignation Sebastian stepped past, closing the door behind him before taking long strides to make up for the short distance between the two of them. “Hawke!” She hollered, walking into the main hall, a glint in her eye as she went towards the banister of the stairs, procuring one of the daggers from her back. “Get your arse down here!” She yelled her hands making quick work as she carved some symbol into the wood that Sebastian couldn’t quite make out from where he stood.

“Enchantment?”

The Prince nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice that suddenly came behind him, turning on his heel and being stopped in his tracks by the altogether unsettling ice-blue gaze of a dwarf. Sebastian could not help but bristle under the odd boy’s stare, it felt as if the dwarf was seeing right through him. “Sandal! Don’t bother the guests!” Another new voice rang in as a door opened to the side of the room, an elderly dwarven man with a few streaks of grey in his otherwise red hair and beard rushed in, shooing the younger boy away. Sebastian’s bemusement only increased further when a large, loping Mabari followed out on his heels. “So sorry for my boy there. He likes meeting new people is all. Please accept...” The dwarf rambled off into a long-winded apology but Sebastian heard none of it, eyes focussed terrified on the Mabari baring its teeth in warning at him.

“Merrick, heel!” A voice yelled from the top of the stairs and the war dog’s ears perked back up from their pinned-down position and a calm, placated expression washed over the dog’s face as it sat back on its haunches. Isabela, startled by the voice – oh, that gruff voice that Sebastian could not help but remember perfectly – quickly sheathed her dagger and scampered to Sebastian’s side before the man he had been unable to forget for a year appeared at the stairs, a disgruntled frown on his face as he tied a house coat about himself over his nightwear. “Bodhan, what’s all the noise for?” He grumbled, his frown digging deeper into his brow as he padded down the stairs.

The elder dwarf seemed to snap to attention, rattling off a number of apologies and excuses that Hawke looked to immediately regret asking for. The frown he wore turned deeply sorrowful at having been so short with his... Sebastian wasn’t quite sure what use anyone had for a dwarf in their home that conventional elven servants couldn’t serve, but it was not his to question when he was already imposing himself upon Hawke, seemingly without the man’s notice.

“Bodhan, Bodhan, stop.” The frown relaxed completely, a rueful smile on his face. “I get the picture.” He let out a chuckle, but the laugh did not reach his eyes. Sebastian, it seemed, was not the only one to notice this, as the Mabari wandered over to Hawke, nuzzling its strong snout into his master’s side. “So, Isabela, what are you...?” Sebastian felt his heart jump into his throat as Hawke finally acknowledged his presence, his blue eyes widening in recognition and something Sebastian couldn’t place.

Isabela, clearing her throat as she moved to Hawke’s side, looked rather pleased with herself and leaned herself at a tilt by placing a hand on Hawke’s broad shoulder, balancing herself on his strong build. “The Prince of Starkhaven desires you once more, oh valiant hero.” She teased, Hawke sending her a small sidelong glare as his cheeks flushed from beneath his beard.

The fire burning to the side of the main hall must have been very warm as Sebastian felt a similar blush creep up his cheeks. “Yes, it’s... a matter of delicacy and I didn’t know where else to turn.” He murmured, feeling once again unsure as he had in the tavern the night before. “I have been betrayed again, by someone I thought I might always have at my family’s side.” His cheeks burned brighter, but for a different reason this time. Rage bubbled up inside of him at the Harrimanns for proving to be vipers just like all the other nobility he had turned to, and himself for trusting them so easily. _What a fool I was. There are so few I can trust, and even then their loyalties are so easily bought._ Yet, he trusted Hawke. It was far from sensible, but, despite her teasing, what Isabela said was true. Hawke was a hero, had saved Sebastian from devoting his life to revenge, though he could not give it up completely. He had a duty to the Maker, but also to Starkhaven. They had no King, and no matter how hard it might be, he would strive to be one they deserved.

“Please, Hawke. I know what I ask of you is more than I deserve, but I promise, if you help me, I will do everything in my power to repay you.” He traced the man’s features earnestly for any sign, any small hope, that Hawke would agree. But all it did was break his heart. There was something missing from this proud, noble man. A spark had been snuffed out and an emptiness left in its place that made Sebastian wish to retract every request he had made. There was a pain, old and festering in Hawke’s heart, but the way it shone in his eyes screamed as bright as a fresh, bleeding gash. It showed in the lines creasing his forehead, turned down at his mouth and the way his hair hung limp instead of crowning him with unkempt spikes.

Isabela, sensing her friend’s hesitance, squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “Come on, Hawke. You might not need the gold, but I certainly do.” She chuckled, nudging him, but his expression remained uncertain as he drew a lip between his teeth.

“I might get someone hurt...” He mumbled, casting his eyes to the ground and making Sebastian feel more ashamed of himself than any Chantry Cleric had ever managed to.

“Enough of that. They wouldn’t want you thinking that way, and you know it.” Isabela sternly chastised him, though in contrast her hand rubbed soothing circles along his arm.

Blue eyes met Sebastian’s, brimming with trepidation before Hawke gave a stiff nod. “Alright.” He muttered, sniffing and scratching idly at his Mabari’s ears. “Alright.” He repeated firmer before turning his attention to Bodhan. “Bodhan, do I have a set of armour fit for wear?” The dwarf nodded in reply and Hawke forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Very well, when shall we meet?”

“Tonight.” Sebastian replied, “if it’s not too soon for you to prepare. Time is, unfortunately, of the essence.”

“We’ll meet here then.” Hawke said before turning to Isabela, his smile finally taking shape and turning playful. “That includes you.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “You brought him here, after all.”

Isabela let out a defeated huff, shoving away from her friend. “It was Varric’s idea.” She whined childishly before heading towards the door. Sebastian turned to follow her but felt a hand wrap around his wrist, gently urging him to stop.

“Sorry.” Hawke immediately muttered, looking down at his feet. “I just... it’s good to see you.” He finally got out, chuckling at his own lame statement. “I mean to say, I hope that I can help you find what you seek.” He finished, Sebastian feeling a little guilty at the vagueness of Hawke’s sentiment, stemming from his own lack of information.

“I hope so too.” He smiled ruefully, taking Hawke’s hand just as it dropped from around his wrist and shaking it. “Perhaps we might stay in touch this time?” Sebastian tried so hard for it to sound casual, but his earnestness seeped through against his will.

“Aye.” Hawke smiled, his muscles seeming to ease slightly at the agreement. “Perhaps we might.” With that, he released Sebastian’s hand and the Prince, after a moment of staring at the man’s retreating back, turned to leave.

The last thing he heard as he shut the door behind him was a muttered wonderment along the lines of “who carves that into a banister?” followed shortly by the Rivaini woman’s name yelled in exasperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brownie points if anyone can pinpoint the childhood show where the name of Hawke's Mabari comes from! Let me know if you feel like I'm not getting characters right, this is my first time writing Dragon Age fic and I don't want it to be a complete disaster of boring plot and OOCness. Also, as it obviously already is, this story will deviate from canon occasionally. I refused to have Sebastian just write a letter, nuh-uh, not getting away that easily.


	3. All I Am is a Man (I Want the World in My Hands)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a good Holiday season and New Year. I myself am just finishing up my holiday in Florida and, because the weather wasn't too great for a few days and we were stuck in with nothing to do, I commandeered the laptop and got to writing. I'm really surprised by the popularity of this story. It's certainly no epic but it's definitely the most popular story I've had in terms of views/follows/favs/kudos/comments so to everyone here and on FF.net who has done that I'm eternally grateful (I tried to get round everyone with personal thanks cause I do really appreciate it, especially comments/reviews but I'm often forgetful so if I didn't send you a PM/reply I'm thanking you here!) Chapter title comes from the song "Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood.

The air lay thick with magic, setting the hairs on Garrett’s arms on end in buzzing anticipation, his own inner reserve of mana rising to prickle at the ends of his fingertips and thrumming through the long staff in his hands. _The veil is thin here._ He cast his eyes about warily, but all he was greeted with was dust and darkness, and eerie silence settling over the entrance hall of the mansion.

“ _Magic._ ” Fenris hissed, voicing Garrett’s thoughts as his lyrium tattoos thrummed a bright blue in response to the magic in the air. “Why is it that whenever I agree to come along with you, Hawke, it is into a pit of mages and demons.” Garrett turned his head at being addressed, offering a wan smile in the elf’s direction. His tone, at first hostile, softened ever so slightly as he voiced his irritation.

“Not _always._ Just _mostly._ ” He replied, his smile widening just a little when Fenris’ lips tilted up ever so slightly before his expression returned - with a noticeable clearing of his throat to suppress a betraying chuckle - to its usual brooding frown. It was enough for Hawke, though. Their friendship (though he was tentative to call it such even after over a year) had been tense at first. Fenris had been - _is still and probably will always be,_ he thought ruefully - wary of the fact that Hawke was a mage, a constant reminder of those who had enslaved him and scarred lyrium into his skin. It had taken a great amount of convincing (mostly from Varric, who had been all too happy to shoot a crossbow bolt through the elf, even after seeing him literally rip a man’s heart from his chest) that Hawke, despite his Maker-given gifts, was not like the magisters Fenris had encountered. If not exactly bosom friends they at least now had a camaraderie, however shaky, that had formed after…

 _No._ Hawke shook his head, grasping his staff resolutely as he moved forward, his companions following his lead without need for him to voice orders. _Best not to dwell on that._

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Garrett heard Sebastian mutter darkly from behind him. He cast a brief glance back at the Prince, noting the slight frown creasing his forehead, arrow already strung to his bow as soon as magic was brought up. “The Harimanns are no mages, and they follow the law of the Chantry. They would never consort with maleficarum.”

Hawke could not help but wince at the other man’s tone. He should have realised that, even had Sebastian not been sworn to the Chantry, his view on magic would not be flattering. For many people mages were only to be feared. Untrustworthy, prone to using blood and demons to achieve their ends on a whim. Why would a noble have any reason to think differently?

“Well, I’m no expert,” he heard Isabela pipe up, impatiently, “but I’m pretty sure the Chant also advises against murder and that didn’t seem to stop them.”

Sebastian’s cheeks coloured slightly, appearing properly scolded as he cast his eyes to the ground. “True enough.” He muttered before returning his gaze upwards and leveling his bow at the ready.

Garrett nodded his thanks at Isabela for her defense, pleased to see that she didn’t seem too sour towards the Prince as she gave the bearded man a small smile in return. For some reason, he didn’t want her to hold the other man’s prejudices too much against him. Other than his distrust of magic he seemed a good man, noble, despite his spoiled upbringing. _Perhaps the Chantry is not completely useless._ He thought, a small smirk playing on his lips as he returned his attention to the stairs winding up. _Besides… he is rather handsome._

Shaking the rather inappropriate thought from his head - Isabela’s influence, no doubt - he focussed his attention ahead as he and his companions reached the top of the staircase, a faint voice now coming to them from down a hallway to the left. “Sebastian, Isabela.” The Prince and pirate turned at being addressed. “Watch our backs and make sure nothing sneaks up behind us. Fenris and I will take point.” Hawke was only a little surprised when Sebastian merely nodded and followed his instruction, pulling the string of his bow back to his ear and holding it as he cast his gaze about. Varric often teased him about his seemingly natural ability to convince others to follow him. Though the dwarf romanticised it a great deal in his stories, he mused that it was odd how he had managed to gather such a strange band of individuals in his second year in Kirkwall and somehow have them all get along - well, most of the time.

“More, you lazy son of a bitch! What’s taking so long!?” As they got closer they voice grew louder into a shrill, slurred yelling. Hawke approached the edge of the slightly raised walkway overlooking the room below, frowning when he saw a lone woman, stumbling in a stupor between large kegs lining the wall.

Sebastian came up beside him, his bow lowering when he seemed to recognise the woman. “Flora?” He muttered, confused, before raising his voice. “Flora!”

The woman continued on, slurring a few more unintelligible words and swinging a fist at some invisible object in the air. “More wine! Or I swear I will drown you in the dregs!”

“She doesn’t even see us…” The Prince muttered, a troubled frown creasing his brow. Garrett couldn’t resist the urge to reach out to him.

“Come on,” he muttered, placing his gloved hand on the Prince’s unarmoured shoulder, “we’ll find out what happened here. Fenris,” the elf grunted in response as he moved over to a closed door beside them.

“Sounds like someone else beyond this door, a man.” He muttered under his breath. The mage moved away from Sebastian with a firm pat to the other man’s back.

Hawke opened it slowly and quietly, frowning at the dull flickering of shadows he could see beyond as the voice became clearer. “More logs! It must be molten!” The man seemed to squak out his command, high-pitched and frantic.

“Please, messere! Don’t! I-I beg you please…” The other voice, a woman, dissolved into sobs and instantly Hawke spurred himself into action, mindless of stealth as he threw the door open, magic gathering in his hand as soon as he stepped through.

The man still pacing around, a frantic look in his eyes, was unmindful of them but the elf facing away immediately turned towards them, snarling as he removed the knife from the frightened woman’s neck, pouncing at Hawke instantly. He was about to throw a knock-out spell at the elf, before he suddenly found him downed. Sebastian stood before him, fist still raised from the gauntleted punch he had delivered to the elf’s jaw.

“She will be so beautiful…” The human muttered, staring off into space, unaware of the intruders or his elven prisoner who was currently escaping back the way Hawke and his companions had come. “Or perhaps, I should be the one…”

Sebastian scowled at the man - another Harimann, Hawke presumed - before turning his heated gaze to Hawke, or more specifically his hand. Hawke quickly dispelled the power he had been gathering, pulling his hand behind his back as if burned. The distrust that smoldered behind those bright blue eyes stabbed straight through him and he felt his throat turn dry. The Prince owed him a debt, but would that matter now? His duty, and his own prejudice, dictated that Hawke, as a mage, deserved nothing but imprisonment or even worse, tranquility.

“We must end this madness.” Was all Sebastian muttered, his disappointed gaze turning away from Hawke as he picked up the bow and arrow he had dropped in his haste to down the elf coming at Hawke. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Prince had meant to save Hawke from a knife, or save the elf from Hawke’s own magic.

This time, the Prince powered on ahead of the others, Hawke allowing him to continue on but always keeping a close eye on the other man as they followed his lead. “Rather high and mighty, isn’t he?” Isabela snorted, disdain clear in her tone as she followed alongside Hawke. Somehow, despite Hawke’s disapproval of her constant lewd jokes and comments about his home - really, he would never be able to look at the Amell family crest again - they had struck up a strong friendship. Whenever some idiot at the Hanged Man got a little too close for comfort and didn’t take Isabela’s warnings seriously, Hawke would be there, his presence enough to give them second thoughts. Similarly, whenever anyone from Hawke’s mercenary past tried to blackmail him into submission, or when someone seemed close to seeing what Hawke’s ‘stave’ truly was, Isabela would jump to his defense, tongue and daggers sharpened to use every threat in her arsenal. There was an easiness about their relationship that Hawke hadn’t been able to find with any other companion except for Varric. Perhaps because Isabela did not like to dwell on the past and in turn kept Hawke’s mind off of his more recent scars.

“It’s only to be expected.” He muttered, though he could not hide his disappointment. He was not sure why, but he felt the need to prove his worthiness to Sebastian. Convince him that, despite being a mage, he was not Sebastian’s enemy. “He comes from nobility, who keep magic out of their family at all costs, and then he swore himself to the Chantry, who tell everyone that mages are evil and will betray you at a moment’s notice for more power and the approval of demons.” He sighed, running his fingers along the small, nearly imperceptible runes scratched into his staff.

“Oi, enough with that damn sad look. I won’t have you moping over some Chantry sod,” she glanced over at Sebastian, who looked behind briefly at the insult, a small sliver of shame showing in his dropped shoulders. Isabela smiled slightly at this victory before lowering her voice with a conspiratorial smirk, “no matter how pretty he is.”

Hawke chuckled slightly as Sebastian led them down further into the mansion, throwing open a door and raising his bow at the ready. “Oh, Maker…” Sebastian muttered, lowering his weapons as his eyes widened in shock.

Fenris rushed in, followed closely by Hawke and Isabela, concerned at the Prince’s sudden shock.

Indeed, what they came across was indeed shocking. Or, in Isabela’s case, hilarious.

Sebastian’s cheeks coloured a deep red as they stood for a moment, watching the older man and young elf… writhing on the bed before quickly backing out. “I’m sorry Hawke.” The Prince muttered, his previous anger seeming to dissipate as embarrassment took over. “I did not mean to expose you to such things.”

Isabela let out an unladylike snort, having to suppress her laughter as they headed further down into the depths of the mansion. “No apologies necessary.” She muttered, amused.

Hawke simply shook his head at his friend, still giggling along until Fenris held out his arm to stop them, indicating a body further up. “A Flint mercenary, by the look of the uniform. It seems your information was right, Prince.” The elf informed them with disinterest, stepping over the corpse while Isabela went to loot it, an eager glint in her eye.

“Turn back from here,” all eyes darted back, weapons raised as Flora descended the stairs, the two other men they had discovered in tow, “there is nothing here for you.”

Hawke studied them carefully, channelling magic into his staff in anticipation for a fight. “So now they see us…” He muttered under his breath, though there was still a glazed look in all of their eyes, as if they were still not fully aware of their actions. “What happened here?” He questioned, watching as Isabela rose, slipping a package over her back as she rose, twirling her daggers in a way that would have appeared to anyone else as lazy, but Hawke knew to be her readying for a fight.

“You shall not enter!” Flora’s voice rose in a shrill shriek, unmindful of his question as her eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped limp to the ground along with her followers.

A dark, chilling growl sounded, seemingly coming from nowhere and yet echoing everywhere around the four of them. Hawke tensed his muscles, his stance squatting into a defensive form as he cast his gaze around warily.

A black ooze crept up from cracks in the ground, unnoticeable had he not been able to sense the foul magic present in the vile looking substance. “Shades!” He bellowed to his companions, casting a stream of fire at one of the growing dark pools. A mouthless shriek came from the liquid as a pair of grotesque arms rose from it, pulling out a misshapen, featureless head as the liquid solidified into a vaguely humanoid form along with its brethren who now rose faster, sensing the threat the mage and the others posed.

Fenris charged forwards, his body covered in a deadly blue mist as he let out a cry, swinging his sword in vicious arcs at one of the Shades, his cuts making it squeel in pain as black blood spewed forth like bile from its wounds.

Hawke grinned, unable to deny the thrill of adrenaline that rushed through him as the Shade he had angered, still alight, rushed towards him. He gathered up another spell, jabbing his staff forward and sending a stone fist flying from the end of his staff straight throw the Shade’s fragile, burning form, sending it flying back to disolve on the ground. He spun around, sensing another enemy upon him and cast a cone of ice from his hand, watching as the approaching Shade struggled on through the chilling wind cast against it until it had been frozen solid by the spell.

Seemingly from nowhere, Isabela appeared from behind it, cutting her daggers this way and that in nearly impossibly fast motions, shattering the Shade into various chunks of ice. Offering Hawke a small wink, she melted into the shadows once more, leaving light footsteps in the dusty floor of the cellar as she padded over to aid Fenris holding his own against two shades, another threatening to come up from behind him.

Turning his attention to Sebastian, Hawke called upon his mana, noticing that the archer was struggling in the slightly cramped space of the cellar. He had downed one shade with five arrows, one attempting to strike it in the chest but, upon seeing that trying to find the demon’s heart was a wasted effort, had aimed the other four at it’s head, finally downing  the creature with a perfect shot through its lone eye. However, he had received a cut along his cheek from a wildly flung out claw and the Shade advancing on him was quickly closing the space between them.

Still with quite a bit of energy left in him, Hawke shot lightning from his staff, the deadly blue arcs of electricity hitting the Shade and causing it to writhe in pain, black flesh crisping and burning until it dropped to the floor into a heap of black sludge.

Fenris, striking down his last two Shades allowed the lyrium haze around him to dissipate, breathing heavily as he turned to land a strike on the last remaining one, until Isabela appeared behind it, daggers flashing as she swept its head clean from its body.

The elf grunted his thanks as he placed his sword on his back and Isabela winked in return. Hawke merely shook his head at his companions, taking stock of his own inner mana supply. He had only used about half of his reserve, at best. Hopefully he would have enough to continue on. He doubted that these mere demons would be the only creatures they would come across.

“Thank you.” He turned, an eyebrow raised when he heard the thick accented voice of the Prince. He was staring at Hawke, an unreadable expression on his face as he studied the mage. Catching himself staring, Sebastian quickly averted his gaze, frowning thoughtfully as he studied the incapacitated Harimanns.

“They’re still alive.” Hawke assured him, heading towards a cavern leading out of the cellar. Mortar lay about the entrance and the whole was uneven. Whatever this tunnel lead to it, obviously those who built this mansion never intended for it to be found.

Sebastian did not reply, merely followed Hawke as he headed after Fenris and Isabela.

As Hawke suspected, the journey through the tunnel, which had turned into a high ceilinged cave, had not been easy.

The ends of his armoured robes were singed from the fiery attacks of the rage demons they encountered. Sebastian had also suffered a few score marks along his once pristine white armour, and all of them were spattered with the vile black blood of the Shades.

“These ruins,” Fenris muttered thoughtfully as they entered a large area, decrepit arcs struggling to rise above them, “they look Tevinter. It is possible that magisters used this place to consort with demons, and left the Veil thin.” The elf’s tone was murderous as he considered this possibility, angered at anything to do with the nation that had once held him captive and forced him through the excruciating torture that left his hair white and memories lost to him.

“Perhaps that is it then.” Sebastian replied, his tone becoming hopeful. “A demon broke through and enslaved the Harimanns, forced them to betray my parents.” Hawke almost felt pity for the younger man. He did not want to believe that people so close to his family had betrayed him. Indeed, he had seemed so desperate to reach through to Flora earlier. Hawke, despite the severity of the situation, could not help but feel a sting of jealousy. Isabela had hinted, with a great amount of amusement, at the Prince’s checkered past of lovers which had apparently been the height of gossip throughout the Free Marches until he had been sent away by his family to live a life of pious prayer and contemplation. Perhaps Flora had been one such lover. He knew it was foolish to be jealous about it - he barely knew the man and his magic dashed any chance of them getting better acquainted - but he couldn’t help it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by what sounded like clicking, as if someone were tapping bleached wood along stone. Fenris seemed to bristle at the noise as well, his lyrium tattoos flaring.

Out of the thin mist covering the floor, the clicking grew louder, a cacophony of clattering as bony hands began to rise from the ground, skulls in various stages of decomposition rising up, hollow eyeholes seeming to glare at them with malicious intent. “Necromancy.” Sebastian cringed, raising his bow and arrow, sending it faster than the eye could follow to shatter one of the corpses skulls. The magic holding the fleshless limbs together failed, the bones separating and clattering to the floor.

“Blood magic.” Fenris growled just as furious as more and more corpses rose up around them. The faint mist had hidden them at first, but now Hawke saw the bones lying underfoot. He kicked away a pile of bones and worn armour, unleashing a simple spell to send a wave of magic towards two skeletons and dashing them against the wall, their joints falling apart.

“Hawke!” Sebastian yelled out a warning as a sword was stabbed into the ground, the creature clinging to it using it to prop up it’s form. Ancient Tevinter armour hung off of the bones that formed the creature as it pulled its sword from the ground and brought up its shield. The Prince shot off another arrow, aimed at the Revenant, but the possessed corpse merely rose its shield to deflect the projectile with little effort

Fenris let out a snarl, channeling his lyrium infused powers as he charged through a cluster of the skeletons, shattering their frail forms with his large greatsword as he charged at the Revenant.

Sebastian refocused his attention back on the skeletal warriors that had finished forming their small army, aiming to shatter skulls. Hawke merely chose to swing about his staff, using the blade at the end of his staff to knock skulls from spines and bony hands grasping weapons to the ground. Isabela seemed to disappear right before his eyes, presumably to aid Fenris in fighting the Revenant.

Hawke was not the greatest physical fighter. As a mage, his father had never seen the need to teach he or Bethany how to use a sword or wield daggers when it would only take time away from mastering abilities that, if left untrained, would easily mark them as targets to Templars or anyone who might break or take their hands in an attempt to keep them from using their magic. Still, he knew enough. When he had first arrived in Kirkwall and opted to join the mercenaries that his Uncle Gamlen was indebted to, Meeran had insisted that he know how to handle some melee skills, like his brother and Aveline.

It had been one of the few times that Garrett had ever seen Carver happy to spend time with his older brother, teaching him to use his staff like a stave and defending himself from the slashes of Carver’s greatsword. When Garrett would find himself kicked to the dirt by his younger brother, Carver would laugh, not cruelly, but with a boyish joy at being able to show off his skill. In those moments, Carver had no longer been in Garrett’s shadow, finally better than him at something, and both brothers had been grateful for the reverse in power. They had never gotten along well, unfortunately, with the rivalries brothers often formed, but Garrett found he missed that laugh more than anything else.

“Fenris!” He heard Isabela yell in panic, turning to see the elven warrior flying through the air from a strike of his now one armed foe, its shield and corresponding arm lying motionless at its feet. A flash of anger seethed within Hawke, powering his magic as he gathered a  stone fist ready to burst forth from his staff. He saw the last of the skeletons downed by one of Sebastian’s well aimed arrows.

He honed the power inside of him, waiting until Isabela appeared from her cloak and struck out with both daggers at the joints of the Revenant’s legs, bringing the powerful corpse to its knees with an inhuman growl before rolling out of its reach. Disabled and unshielded but the depreciating and tattered armour covering its form, Hawke grinned as he realised it would not stand up to his attack, sending his spell flying, ripping up the ground as it sped full force into the Revenant, shattering it into a heap of bones on the ground.

Isabela rushed immediately to the elf’s side, helping him to his feet as he favoured his side. “I’m fine.” The elf growled, frustrated at having to be helped up. His frown only deepened as he shoved himself away from the pirate and had to grip his side harder.

Hawke nearly offered to heal it with magic but immediately decided against it. He did not have much skill in healing, but it was not that that stopped him. Rather, he knew that offering would only make Fenris _more_ irritable, his distrust of magic so strong that he wouldn’t even accept a potion.

“It is only a minor wound. The sword did not pierce my armour.” He assured, his tone becoming a little more gentle as he realised how unneeded his abrasiveness to Isabela had been. “Let us move on.”

The tunnels wound on for a little longer, Fenris hanging back with Sebastian as he favoured his side.

“You must give me more!” A voice hissed from ahead, causing the mage and his companions to halt. “Starkhaven will not submit. I put that idiot Goran Vael into the Prince’s seat but the other families won’t heed him!” Hawke stepped as lightly as possible, Isabela and Sebastian following his lead a little more effectively due to their training as rogues. Fenris stayed behind in the cavern, pulling out his sword cautiously as he watched the rest of them go on forward. If it came to battle, Hawke knew Fenris would come rushing to their aid, injury or no.

A woman with greying hair knelt with her back turned to them, caressing whomever it was she spoke to lovingly despite her frantic tone. “I must marry him to Flora and solidify our hold.” She muttered as Hawke noticed the staff lying next to her on the ground. “But I need more power!” She seemed to be begging at this point, her hands caressing the person’s - no, demon’s - face falling away as the figure rose. The desire demon ran a purple claw along the woman’s chin with an amused glint in her eye, tail flicking idly as it raised its horned head.  
  
“I’ve given you much.” The demon replied wearily, sighing as if exhausted. “Your desires run deep.” Its yellowed eyes flicked to the approaching threat, a smirk playing along its purple lips. “You’ve already traded your husband and children. What more can you offer?”

Hawke stared back at the demon, meeting her alluring gaze with a cold glare. “Step away from her, demon.” He growled warningly, the woman finally coming out of her stupor as she scrambled for her staff and rose it ready to strike at the intruders.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” She threw at Hawke, magic flaring before the white armoured Prince stepped in front of Hawke, fury radiating from him. “S-Sebastian?” She stuttered in disbelief.

“You were my mother’s friend!” He accused, his hand gripping his bow until his knuckles shown as white as his armour. “How could you- you murder her!?” He sounded furious, but even though Hawke could not see his face, he knew it was as much grief as anger that fueled him. The tell-tale crack in his voice betrayed that he was trying to hold back tears.

“Such an ugly word.” The demon interjected, smiling sinfully as she floated closer to the Prince, dragging her eyes up and down him as if trying to undress him down to his very bones with her gaze. “I prefer ‘removed the only obstacle between her and her dreams’.” She shrugged lazily, moving closer. Hawke knew he ought to fight her, take his chance and attack, yet something kept him frozen in place. “I could create such desires if I wished but it is far easier to nurture those that already exist.”

She turned to Hawke this time, fixing her with her cold, passionless eyes. She had grown tired of Lady Harimann’s petty jealousies. She was hungry and in need of a new source of power, a new source of desire. “The desire for power is easy to find. You and your friend both possess it, do you not?” She flicked her gaze to Sebastian with a smirk. “You both wish to rise.”

A clawed hand came up to cup the Prince’s cheek, the demon’s smirk turning into a grin as she watched him try to resist. Sebastian’s lips moved as if struggling, trying to repeat soothing words that sounded to come from the Chant of Light but with each passing second the show of defiance seemed to become harder and harder.

Suddenly, the demon let out a high-pitched shriek, pulling away from Sebastian as if burned. She looked down in confusion and anger at a dagger sticking out of her stomach. “What a bore you demons are.” Hawke smirked at the Rivaini as he finally broke from his stupor. So absorbed with Garrett and Sebastian, the demon had ignored Isabela who now stood behind her. “‘Ooooh, I will offer you a roll in the sheets for your eternal soul’.” She couldn’t resist joking before pulling her dagger out and using the other to slash down the demon’s back causing another high pitched screech.

Answering cries came from around them as Shades rose up to defend their mistress and Lady Harimann cast a haphazard fire spell at the pirate who dared to attack the demon. Hawke replied in kind as Isabela deftly rolled out of the way, letting off his own fire spell and watching, sorrowfully as it caught the woman’s robes, greedily using the cloth to feed the flames. He attempted to block out her screaming as he turned to one of the Shades, noting Fenris’ joining of the fight, though he did not charge straight to the desire demon and settled for fighting off her lesser brethren. It would do him no good to get injured a second time.

He froze the Shade in place, using up the last of his reserves of mana to do so and shattered it with the bladed end of his staff. Surveying the small skirmish, he noted that Isabela and Fenris had managed to take care of the rest, all of them ready to face the desire demon that Isabela had injured.

Yet, they found Sebastian standing triumphant over the creature, though looking anything but pleased as he retrieved his arrows from between the demon’s breasts and another from her neck. He looked at the charred corpse of Lady Harimann, a sickened frown turning down the corners of his mouth. Hawke did not fail to notice that the Prince refused to look him in the eye as he passed the mage, and he could not help the guilt that crept up. “Let us return to the Chantry. I must pray for Lady Harimann’s soul.”

Nodding morosely, Garrett made to follow. However, Isabela held him back as Fenris and Sebastian walked on, slipping the package from earlier off of her back and holding it out to the mage. “What is it?”

The rogue smiled cryptically, dragging Hawke along by the arm to follow their two companions. “A peace offering. Might be the difference between your cushy mansion and Hightown and the Gallows.”  
  
Hawke frowned in confusion but muttered his thanks none the less, following after the Prince and elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to get this typed up and posted while on holiday (and god was it annoying fiddling about with Google Drive and Word on a laptop which I hate because trackpads) because I have exams a month after I get back from holiday (and this is my last year and I'm applying to Universities so I'm actually/probably/maybe gonna get off ass and study) and then exams further on in April/May so the next chapter probably won't be up until mid-summer, just warning you. Please continue to subscribe/leave kudos/comment because it really does encourage me to keep going with this story and not drop it like I do with everything else (indeed this is my first multi-chapter fic that actually has multiple chapters).


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